


Counting Stars

by anr



Category: Edge of Tomorrow (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 16:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: The first time she sees him.
Relationships: William Cage/Rita Vrataski
Comments: 31
Kudos: 93
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Counting Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).

  


* * *

  


The first time she sees him, he's _breathtaking_. A mimic disintegrates from his weapons fire, another gutted, and then a third, and another, four gone in the space of as many heartbeats; his movements so precise, so pinpoint accurate, that she can't look away.

She watches the blood drip down the side of his face, watches him blink it away like sweat, and wonders who he is and why she's never seen him in battle before. The way he kills... the way he seems to almost know where they're going to be before --

_Oh._

The realisation hits her at the exact same moment the sand beneath her feet erupts into a slithering, slicing mess of tentacles. Firing blindly, she --

  


* * *

  


She tries to focus on his voice at Whitehall, the soft commands, "stop, step, turn, _here_," but what consumes her most is the feel of his hands on her arms and shoulders and back, the sure, deft touches that tell her he knows her body, knows _her_, better than anyone else ever has or probably ever will.

  


* * *

  


The first time she sees him, she can't shake the feeling that she knows him from somewhere.

It doesn't make any sense, and it's the worst possible moment for a distraction -- around her the air is full of the sounds of artillery fire, of mimics shrieking, of soldiers shouting -- but there's something about the way he's staring at her. Something about his expression. Something...

... that takes her straight back to Verdun, and that moment every morning with her unit, when everyone would cluster around Hendricks' bunk and watch that media relations Major promise the world that with these new exosuit jackets, the upcoming battle was already as good as won, and.

His name is on the tip of her tongue -- she knows it, she does, she saw it too many times to count on that sharply pressed lapel each morning, the stream on Hendricks' tablet surprisingly clear despite the supposed communications blackout -- but before she can hold onto it, there's a sudden force against her back, a change in pressure that is horrifyingly familiar from a hundred and one deaths a lifetime ago, and --

  


* * *

  


She says, "why does it matter what happens to me?" like she doesn't know, like she doesn't understand, like she's _oblivious_, but the truth is, she _does_ know. She does. And she knows because he's looking at her like she must have looked at Hendricks on those days when all she wanted, even more than for the battle and war and that fucking _day_ to end, was to just see him _live_, and that's...

She's sorry to hurt him like this, she is, but she's done her grieving already. She can't help him with his.

She starts the helicopter.

  


* * *

  


The first time she sees him, her body is still and her breathing is slow and her world is surrounded by spinning, whirling death.

It probably means something, then, that the last time she sees him, it's history repeating itself and smothering her with fucking coincidences, her body paralysed and her lungs collapsing and a mimic rushing right at --

  


* * *

  


After a simple, "keep heading north," Cage doesn't say much while she drives. She's not exactly sure what she's expecting -- a discussion about what they'll do next, most likely; questions about her loops in Verdun, maybe -- but silence is most definitely not it.

And if the silence is unexpected, then so too is the way the silence _lasts_. And the way it stretches and fills the spaces in the car, wrapping around her until all she can think about is how quiet he is, and how still and solid and calm he is, and how many inches Cage's jacket is from hers.

She breaks first. "I lost my brother in Lyons, once."

  


* * *

  


The first time she sees him, he looks familiar. She knows she doesn't remember him, not like the way he says he remembers her, but there's something about him. About his name maybe? Or his face? Or his...

Studying the dam schematics, she listens absently as he brings Carter up to date, the quickness of his replies to Carter's questions a sure sign he's done this before. When he starts explaining how the exosuit jackets will run out of power before they can get to the farmhouse, déjà vu hits her hard and she suddenly works it out. He doesn't look familiar -- he _sounds_ it.

"You used to be media relations," she says, as they walk back to the barracks to rejoin their units, "didn't you?"

He glances her way but doesn't stop walking. "Yes."

She's not sure if that reaction means they've had this conversation before or not. If they have, she figures she probably hasn't told him _how_ she's worked out where she knows him from before because, if she had, he would have led with it. And maybe if he leads with it the next time they meet, she won't have it worrying away at the back of her mind all day, like an itch she just can't reach to scratch, distracting her from remembering Verdun, and her original unit, and the way Hendricks' had died, over and over and over --

_Oh._

Her steps falter as the guilt hits. And not the guilt she's lived with since Verdun, that she survived and he didn't, and not even because today, for the first time, she _didn't_ spend every minute of every hour rehashing it over and over and over again... but because she's glad she didn't.

She has thought about nothing but Cage since the moment he walked across that training floor and into her life and she's _glad_ about that.

Cage must notice her misstep, because he looks her way again. "How --"

"Carter said something," she lies, cutting him off. "It's not important." She speeds up her steps. "Let's go."

  


* * *

  


She watches him train and she watches him stare at her, after, his breathing heavy as he kneels over the destroyed mech-aid, the moment stretching too long, lasting a lifetime, lasting two.

She has no idea what to say.

She says, "have I got something on my face?"

  


* * *

  


The first time she sees him, he is her past come to life; long ago mornings with her original unit, the battle only hours away and this man on Hendricks' tablet, promising a fairytale ending if they just wear their shiny, new armour.

(He fucking _lied_.)

  


* * *

  


She's not in any pain anymore, her body having numbed at about the same time she realised she could no longer move. It's not the first time she's broken her spine -- on Verdun, she must have shattered her back a dozen times or more -- but it will be her last, and at least she's probably only going to have to think about that for a few more seconds before a mimic finds her and finishes her off.

A soldier drops down beside her, sitting close enough that she can see a paper-thin cut on his neck, just above the line of his collar, and shoots the mimic that approaches over his right shoulder.

And the one that erupts from the sand at their feet.

And the one that must be behind her.

And --

  


* * *

  


The first time she sees him.

  


* * *

  


She says, "thank you."

She says, "you're a good man, Cage."

She says, "_I wish_."

His mouth is warm against hers, his hand tight on her arm. Still, solid, calm.

  


* * *

  


The first time she sees him, he's walking straight towards her, all confidence and a sharply pressed uniform, the Major from Hendricks' tablet front and centre and smiling at her like he _knows_ her.

She recognises him instantly.

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> [anr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr) | [anr](https://anr.livejournal.com) | [anr](https://anr.dreamwidth.org) | [anr](https://pinboard.in/u:anr) | [anretc](https://anretc.tumblr.com)


End file.
